


This Is The Life

by akane171



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Human AU, Humor, OCC-NESS, Swearing, angst and drama will come, karamel all the way! - Freeform, karamel kids, some sexual content because karamel can't keep their hands off each other, teasing & tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akane171/pseuds/akane171
Summary: Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. You can get something delicious. Or a real shit.Basically, a story where Kara and Mon-El sail through life full of problems, kids, parents, horrible friends and every day dramas like two destroyers under the same flag... Most of the time.





	1. Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fandomlove7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomlove7/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the oldest girl from the Danvers-Gand family deals with teenage idiots, parents acting like kids… and sometimes not, horny friends and harsh reality. But at last there are pancakes.

Lydia Gand looked at her slightly bruised knuckles and sighed heavily.

Life of a thirteen year old girl was so freaking hard. Boring classes. Stupid teachers. Pimples. Younger sisters stealing clothes from your closet. Tv shows screwing your life.

Dumb teenage boys who thought unclasping teenage girls’ bras was so damned funny.

She raised her head and smirked at Mark Dickinson, who was sitting in front of her and was nursing his bloody nose. Unfortunately, it was not broken.

Not that she didn't try.

He blinked when he noticed her smirking at him. He turned red and abruptly looked at his knees, what caused a new wave of blood flushing from his nose like a fountain.

Served him right.

And then the door to the office was opened and she cursed softly, when her father entered the room.

He was wearing his tactical combat uniform. Meaning, he was on action, when they called him. _Damn._

Her dad glimpsed at Mark, who looked like he wanted to sink into the wall, and stopped in front of her. He didn’t comment about her bruised knuckles but she was sure he had noticed.

“Am I screwed?” Lydia asked flatly.

He slowly raised his brow, “You ask me?”

Before she could answer, the office was entered by high and mighty Mark’s mother, wearing pink Chanel suit, Chanel shoes, Chanel jewelry and very Chanel face (aka _I’m here to suck your middle class blood with fake compassion and courtesy of the elite_ ).

Immediately they were invited to the principal’s office, where Mr. Edge, supported by Mrs Dickinson’s smiles and nods, talked a lot about discipline, values of proper behavior, tradition and-

And Lydia knew she was screwed. After all she punched the richest guy in the school. Mr untouchable. Mr Golden boy. Mr “my family donates and supports this school so screw you”. Mr “I can do anything and no one is going to report me”.

She tried to not roll her eyes while Mr Edge, supported by Mrs Dickinson, described all of her past wrongdoings (a lot) and Mak’s (none, because nothing was reported). She tried to not tugged her flowery blouse in annoyance when they laughed this whole incident was _not a big deal_. She tried to not groan when she heard that boys were just boys and they behaved this way. She tried to not fantasize about throwing Mr Edge and Mrs Dickinson to the ocean to feed sharks, when they agreed she was going to get two week detention and should have apologized to poor Mark.

Well, it could have been worse.

“No.”

Lydia shivered and glanced at her dad, who suddenly spoke up for the first time.

He was standing with is arms folded on his chest, looking totally relaxed and at easy. But Lydia knew better.

He had _that_ look on his face.

_Oh BOY._

“Mr Gand-” the principal started but almost choked on saliva, when her dad just looked at him, using his mastered _don’t even try asshole_ cop stare.

“My daughter was sexually harassed, she defended herself and you want to punish her for it?” his voice could freeze the water. “While the offender walks free, because he’s just a _boy_? I don’t think so.”

“Mr Gand, we agreed that-” Mrs Dickinson smiled sweetly but it melted from her face when turned his head slowly and stared at her coldly.

“The only thing that I can agree on, is the two weeks detention that _your_ son is going to get after harassing Lydia. Unless, you prefer my wife writing an article about how your prestigious school with such _great tradition_ doesn’t protect female students and supports sexual harassers,” he smiled chillingly at Mr Edge, who wanted to interrupt. “I’m sure this kind of an article on the first page of CatCo Magazine is going to be an amazing advertisement for your school.”

Mr Edge, very wisely, said nothing.

“And you,” her dad stopped smiling and glared at Mark who looked like he wanted to hide under his mother’s skirt. “Next time you touch my daughter, she has my blessing to throw you at the nearest wall and believe me, she can do it. Did I make myself clear?”

Mark didn’t say a thing just squeaked and nodded violently.

“Great,” her dad smiles broadly. “And now excuse us,” he opened the door and waited for Lydia to gather her bag. When she passed him, he shut the door rather loudly, leaving three speechless idiots behind them.

A bell had rung few minutes before, so the corridors were crowded. But all people parted before her dad like, well Red Sea before Moses, so she just silently followed him.

Her dad didn’t say a word on their way to the car and anxiety was slowly rising inside of her.  

She messed up again, she should have dealt with Mark differently. In a more diplomatic way. Her parents told her more than once that she was too hot headed and she needed to keep her temper under control. And she didn’t. And her dad was probably called in the middle of doing something important. And he had to come to school. Again.

For sure she disappointed him.

“Are you angry?” she asked when they got into their car.

“I’m furious,” he answered and put a key into an ignition.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, biting her lower lip.

Her dad froze before starting the car and looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Not at you. At the idiots in the office. Like… remind me why we signed you in to this school in the first place?”

Lydia blinked. So he was not angry at her after all?

“Well, it’s the most prestigious school in the city.”

“Prestigious my ass,” her dad muttered under his breath and started the car.

“So, you are not disappointed?” she wanted to be sure.

“Of course not. I’m just a little sad you didn’t break his nose,” he rolled his eyes and she smiled. “But what have I taught you about punching?”

“Not with a closed fist,” she sighed when he threw her a sad look. “I was just… caught in the moment.”

After all, Mark decided to _do it_ in the canteen, in front of the entire freaking school, ugh. She was pissed off and totally embarrassed, so she didn’t think, just punched his face and then calmly went to the bathroom.

Where, maybe, she cried a little. But you didn’t hear it from her.

“What?” she asked when she noticed, her dad was just calmly staring at her with not very familiar look on his face.

“Nothing, you just grow so fast. And you are pretty,” he said slowly, like this realization hit him hard for the first time.

“Thanks?” Lydia blinked confused.

After all she had long, blond wavy hair, striking blue eyes (dad called them “mini comets”), not bad lips and she had breasts. Not really visible, YET!, but she had them. And well, not to be arrogant or something, but her fashion sense was perfect. So yeah, generally speaking she was pretty. Thank you very much.

“Do boys hmm, disturb you lately?” her dad asked with furrowed brows.

“Hmm? Well, no. They just sometimes act weirdly, you know?”

“Oh yes, I can imagine,” he said flatly. “I need to find you a pocket knife.”

“Dad!”

“And maybe ask Alex to teach you some techniques.”

“DAD!”

“What? You need to know how to protect yourself,” he said seriously and finally started driving.

Lydia rolled her eyes. She already has known more defending techniques than a rookie cop, thanks to her weapon obsessed aunt and father.

“Please tell me it’s _their_ car,” her dad asked suddenly and stopped near an expensive limo and a bored chauffeur, who was leaning on the car and smoking.

“Obviously,” Lydia said sarcastically. The richest family in the city, had to show off, right? “What are you doing?” she asked confused when her dad opened the door.

“They parked on the space reserved for disabled,” he grinned widely and got off.

 

*

 

“You won’t tell mom, right?” Lydia asked 15 minutes later, when they were closing to their house.

The last time Lydia was “hotheaded” in school and her mom was called… Boy, the lecture she got was _long_.

“You don’t want her to write that article?” he asked seriously. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea, Di. It’s not about you calling the teacher an idiot, getting into a catfight because of a tv show or being too sarcastic and making your friend cry.”

“She’s not my friend!”

“Di...”

“Dad, I don’t want to get kicked out, no thanks, I like this school… most of the time. And I have some real friends there.”

“Ok, point taken,” he said and finally stopped on their driveway… where Kara was getting out of her blue Toyota Prius.

“Crap,” Lydia said when her mom turned on, smiled broadly and waved at them.

And then her smile faded away when she squinted her eyes at them suspiciously.

“How much do you want to stay in your school?” her dad asked, waving back at his wife and smiling fakely.

“Very much?”

“Not a word then, let me handle it,” he murmured under his breath and got off. “Hi, babe,” he said cheerfully.

“Don’t _babe me,_ Mon-El. What happened?”

 _Ugh, that was fast_ , Lydia thought.

 

*

 

Di was sitting at the top of the stairs, with a bag of frozen peas on her bruised knuckles and a cell in her other hand, watching how her parents were arguing in the kitchen.

Well, maybe not exactly _arguing_.

Just her mom was yelling about how she was going to write that article, sign Lydia off from that “horrible place”, murder the principal and Dickinson family. Her dad was trying to unsuccessfully calm her down.

Lydia  sighed and checked her friends’ group chat.

Just to choke on the air she was breathing, because her so called friends were discussing that… her dad was a total hottie and how they needed pics.

 _Gross. Gross. Gross! Ewww!_ she thought closing the app and deciding that watching her parents’ argument was safer.

Well, it was not.

Because now her mom looked flushed and was poking her husband’s chest. Dad had a smug look on his face, like every time when he was teasing his wife. Then her mom yelled he needed to stop distracting her and her dad laughed and…

And cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Hard.

It was not one of the kisses they usually shared in front of their daughters. Definitely not a parents’ kiss. Not a quick peck, right before leaving for work. Not a kiss on the cheek. Not even a typical tv show kiss. No.

It was a full, passionate kiss for, you know,  grown up people.

Lydia's jaw fell wide open when her mom put her arms around her husband neck. And Di could swear she heard her mom moaned (!).

Uhm?! Did all parents seriously kiss like _that_ ?! Shouldn’t they have stopped kissing like _that_ after they had become parents?! UHM?! She was fully aware people were doing this kind of things, ok?, she was not dumb, she paid attention on her classes. But she didn’t need a reminder in front of her eyes! _Ewww!_

The worst thing was, she knew she should have stopped watching, but she couldn’t and she didn’t know why and oh thank God, they stopped!  

Her mom giggled rather loudly and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Di, if you stopped peeping, I think you should visit Ruby,” her dad said loudly. “For reasons.”

“Ugh, I’m going, I’m not here, nope, ughhhhhh,” Lydia ran down the stairs, avoiding looking at them.

Still, she got a glimpse of her dad throwing her mom over his shoulder in the mirror, right before she escaped the house.

God hated her.

*

God hated her more.

When she opened the door to the Arias-Danvers house, she was assaulted by Ruby, who demanded pics of her dad.

It seemed that they were going to sell like hot cakes among horny population of teenage girls in their school.

Lydia decided that maybe being kicked out  was not that bad idea.

 

*

When Di got back home, she found her whole family in the kitchen.

She ignored that: a) her dad was humming, while making pancakes, b)her mom was glowing like a christmas tree and c)wearing her dad’s t-shirt, d)Willow stole her Disney watch again.

Lydia just took a plate, put a dozen of the deliciously smelling pancakes on it and sat beside her never-shutting-up-little-sister, who was describing her day in details.

Her mom approached and put a glass of juice beside Di’s plate.

“Are you ok, honey?” her mom asked and caressed Lydia’s bruised knuckles.

“Yep,” Lydia moaned a little, taking a bite of her food. Her dad made the best pancakes in the whole universe. Period.

“Want to talk about what happened today?” her mom asked with concern in her voice.

Lydia swallowed a big chunk of food.

Someone made a film of how she punched Mark and put in on youtube. It was pretty epic and concluding from the amount of views and comments - she became a legend.

Also, Dickinson got a three week detention.

“No,” she grinned and her mom kissed her forehead.

“Ok, but I really can write that article, if you change your mind,” she said with a predatory smile.

“Mom?” Willow asked suddenly. “I need to write a story about how my parents met. For my English homework.”

Dad gasped and turned to them, with spatula in his hand. He was grinning widely.

“Please, don’t,” Kara moaned, but of course he ignored her.

“It was epic! We met on this beautiful day-”

“It was raining!”

“Hush, hush, babe. On a pro choice manifestation, where your amazing mother almost assaulted-”

“I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“You arrested me!”

“After you almost beheaded me with your purse.”

“Come on! I didn’t even break your nose!”

Lydia was slowly chewing and listening to her parents arguing. Her head moving from one to the other, like she was watching a tennis game.

It was weird, but they parents looked like they were in their own, small world and they were enjoying themselves.

“And you threw up at me.”

“That was on our first date, not when we met!”

Her dad had that smug look on his face again, while avoiding her mom’s light punches. On the other hand, her mom was flushed and looked angry… but was crinkling.

“And remember how you forced me to break into that house?”

“Oh, you just didn’t!”

“Di?” Willow turned to her with wide eyes. “Is our family pathological?”

Lydia glanced at her parents, who were standing inches from each other, her dad trying not to laugh, her mom flushing and starting to grin, mischievous sparks dancing in her eyes.

Basically, they both looked like they wanted to make out.

 _Eww_.

“Nah,” Lydia sighed and took another pancake. “Just ignore them and keep eating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay or nay? Because I have some ideas for continuation. Some for how karamel meeting and hooking up, some for their domestic life with their kids. Good idea? But idea? Should I leave it as an one shot? Do you want more chaps? UNLEASH YOUR FEELINGS.
> 
> btw? The word “daddy” is forever ruined for me. I blame tumblr.
> 
> I’m working on the next Accidentally in Love, chap I promise. You will get some hot stuff in the next chap, so don’t murder me now.
> 
> And the last thing. The finale of s3? I AM STILL PISSED OFF.


	2. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they meet with a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vox Populi! You decided you want more, so here it is. Also, thank you all for leaving comments under the first chap. 
> 
> Hugs for my badass beta reader yeratimelord_katniss.

Saying it wasn’t his best day was like saying Anakin had a wonderful time on Mustafar but got a little sunburnt.

Chief Jones was not amused when he reprimanded him about getting into a fight with a suspect and demoted him to a security guard at a pro choice march.

Pam from HR was not amused seeing him in her office again.

Sam was not amused, sewing his brow the second time this month.

His mother was not amused when she sent him a message that informed him that Imra (his ex girlfriend) and Garth (his ex best friend) got engaged.

His landlady was not amused when he was late with his rent.

His cat Dante was not amused and was ignoring his owner, who forgot to buy his favorite food.

And Mon-El was not amused either.

Because he found out about Imra and Garth’s engagement yesterday. So he got drunk. And called her. And probably made a pathetic idiot of himself. And now he was still hungover, his head hurt as hell, he was thirsty, tired and pissed off. The fact that he was in the middle of a chanting crowd looking for potential threats didn’t help. At all.

Also, it was raining.

His day couldn’t get worse, right?

Mon-El’s phone rang. “Hell-”

“MON-EL MICHAEL GAND.”

_Fuck._

“Hey mom-”

“Don’t _mom_ me, son,” her angry voice drilled into his skull, making him cringe. “I carried you in my womb for 9 long and painful months, I gave birth to you, I’ve changed your diapers and cleaned your ass, I’ve raised you, I’ve put food into your mouth and this is how you repay me?”

“Mom-”

“How dare you not call for two weeks, you ungrateful fruit of my womb?! Two weeks! Do you know how worried I was? Do you- LAR, GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!”

Mon-El sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a very annoying talk.

“Son,” he heard his father’s calm voice. “What your mother wanted to say, in her typical hyperbolising manner of an English literature teacher-”

Mon-El heard his mother gasping loudly.

“What did you just say!?” She was probably jumping and trying to snatch her phone from Lar’s grasp.

They started bickering.

Mon-El stared lifelessly at the crowd passing him, wondering how the hell his parents got together. The English and the Math teacher, aka The Gnome and The Hercules, two of the most dreaded people in his high school. A pair made in hell, total opposites, yin and yang, ice and fire, mercifully teasing each other for the last 25 years.

The fact his mother hadn’t stabbed his dad so far was a freaking miracle. On the other hand, Mon-El was sure his future wife was going to be an adorable thing - sweet, caring, gentle. Like Imra.

He gritted his teeth.

“-ok, so I am a literarily uneducated pack of useless muscle, thank you for reminding me, darling. Son? We just wanted to ask you if you are ok. We heard about... Imra.”

Mon-El took a deep breath, “I’m f-”

“Fine. Yes, of course you’re fine. Like when you fell from the tree and broke your leg, you were fine, just like all the other many times when you obviously were not fine.” His dad’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “And now I’m giving you your mother because otherwise she is going to poke me to death. Seriously, Rachela? A _fork_?”

“Shut up, Laurence.”

Mon-El rolled his eyes. If his parents started calling each other by their full names, the shit had hit the fan.

Then he blinked when he saw something disturbing not so far from him. Something that required a police intervention.

“Son, we are having a family dinner on Sunday.”

He groaned softly, moving through the crowd, trying to reach the two bulky guys and some girl who was loudly yelling at them. Did she have a death wish or something?

Also, _family_ dinner? With his parents, aunts, cousins, grandparents and the little kids? All of them asking about Imra and making fun of him? Over his dead body.

“I have work-”

“No, you don’t.“ Rhea’s voice was sweet, which was a very bad sign. ”I called your police station and you don’t work on Sunday. I’ll see you at your grandad’s house at 12 p.m. on the dot, or I’m dragging your ass there. Do we understand each other, son?”

“But-”

“ _Mon-El_ ,” that voice. She’d been using it since he was little and wanted to eat cookies before dinner. There was no point to argue.

“Yes, mom,” he sighed tiredly.

“Love you, honey,” his mom cheerfully ended the call and he stopped in front of two neo-nazis who looked inches from murdering a blonde girl, who was yelling at them rather loudly. Mon-El very wisely called for a back up team, just before he approached them.

“NCPD,” he said and flashed his badge. “What’s going on h-”

He almost swallowed his tongue at the blonde turning and piercing him with a raging ice cold stare. If looks could kill, he would have been dead in a second.

He got a nasty impression that it was the two neo-nazist who were inches from getting murdered, not her.

“Ma’am what’s the-”

“ARREST THEM!” she yelled into his face and he could smell alcohol in her breath. “They’re promoting nazi symbols and were interrupting this march with horrible slogans!”

One of the guys chuckled.

“We were just talking, man. And admiring the view,” he smiles rather creepily, looking at the fuming blonde and Mon-El killed the urge to punch the guy. “When this feminazi bimbo started yelling at us, for no reason.”

Mon-El raised a brow. A _neo-nazi_ calling a girl a _feminazi_? Cute, the guy was obviously an intellectual.

“Arrest them!” The girl yelled again, right into his face and he started to wonder how many margaritas she’d drunk.

“There is no reason-”

“They have swastikas on their t-shirts!”

“The First Amendment to the United States Constitution guarantees the right to freedom of speech,” he recited tiredly.

The girl opened her mouth but no sound came from it.

“Well, it’s a dumb law!” she yelled finally.

Yes, it was. Yet, he couldn’t say that.

And maybe it would have ended just like that, but the two idiots were, well, idiots.

“Yeah, blondie. Go home and do something productive, instead of wasting time here. Prepare some dinner for your man. And maybe you will get some.”

“Because obviously you need it.”

They both started to laugh.

The look in her blue eyes became murderous as she slowly turned to the idiots.

_She was not going to jump at two big neo-nazis, right? Uhm, she was? Oh for the fuck’s sa-!_

He’d caught her just before her heavy purse could have landed on the first idiot’s head.

“Ma’am! Please calm down!” he moaned, when her elbow hit his ribs. He was wearing bulletproof jacket and he still felt that. Was she made of steel or something?

“Ok, ok! I’m calm! Let me go, you pervert,” she growled and neatened her skirt when he released her from his hold.

And then she took a swipe with her goddamned purse with some inhuman super speed and…

And Mon-El, very unwisely, jumped between her and the two idiots. He thought he could easily stop the purse.

He didn’t take account of how fucking heavy herpurse was. And how fast it swerved. And how slippery the wet pavement was.

In one second he was trying to catch the purse and keep his balance on the slick pavement, in the next the purse landed flat on his face with a force of a small tank. And then he was kneeling on the ground, groaning and holding his head. Blood from his cut brow was flowing down his face.

Mon-El slowly raised his head and looked at the cause of his misery. He saw three blurry girls that were watching him with furrowed brows.

Either her triplet sisters appeared out of nowhere or he had triple vision and got a concussion. Awesome.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, idiot?” the girl asked.

 _What was he doing?_ \- he thought shakily standing up and slowly approaching her and her two clones.

Arresting her, of course.

*

“You should be thankful that cop didn’t charge you for assault,” Alex said after they left the station.

Kara snorted. “Charge me? A tipsy girl with a big bad purse assaulting poor Mr Officer? Please, he’s probably a laughing stock already. I hope his pals don’t let him live it down.”

Alex sighed tiredly. She didn’t know which was worse: tipsy Kara and her drunken bravado or Kara suffering from a hangover, covering herself with blankets on the couch and moaning about how irresponsibly she behaved while being drunk.

“I know you’re upset about Kenny-”

“It’s not about Kenny,” Kara snapped.

“Uhm, right. So, the fact you got drunk, went to a pro choice march and picked up a fight with the first two idiots you saw has nothing in to do with Kenny’s death anniversary.”

“Exactly. I’m just a simple citizen who actively supports people’s rights.”

“Of course. Every year, on the same date, third time in a row. What a coincidence. At least you could have called your mother to pick your ass from the custody.” Kara threw her a look. “Right, bad idea.” Alex sighed, imaginating aunt Alura getting a heart attack after her tipsy daughter called her and informed her about being stuck in custody.

“Why are you so grumpy, dear cousin?” Kara asked, humming Singing in the Rain and hopping over puddles.

Like Alex said before, tipsy Kara was acting totally out of character and was annoying as hell.

“I don’t know, maybe because of you I had to cancel my date with a stunning brunette?” she asked sarcastically.

Kara walked right into a puddle and stopped abruptly.

“Oh my God! It was today? Alex, I’m so sorry,” she gasped horrified, still standing in the middle of the puddle.

Alex bit inside of her cheek. _Now or never._

“You can make it up to me,” she said innocently.

“Of course, I can do anything. I can be your slave for a week, I can-”

“Go with me for a double date.”

“Absolutely not,” Kara said and started walking fast.

“Come on, Kara, the guy is cute, sweet and adorable. I saw his pic,” Alex said enthusiastically trying to catch up.

“No!”

“He has dimples when he smiles.”

“I don’t care!”

Alex groaned. “You need to start seeing guys again. I know since Adam you have issues-”

“I don’t need a guy!” Kara angrily waved her hands.

“Ok, but you need a dick.”

“I don’t! I’m perfectly… self-sufficient!” the blonde screamed, water comically plopping inside of her shoes, with every angry step she took.

“I know your masturbation techniques are splendid-”

“Oh my God! You walked on me once, Alex! Once! And I didn’t know you came back to the flat! Will you ever stop bringing it up?!”

“-but we both know buying a new vibrator won’t solve your problems,” Alex finished, totally ignoring Kara’s outburst.

“I have no problems!”

“So we can talk about Adam?”

“NO!” Kara stopped and turned to Alex. Her face was flushed. “Look, I’m grateful you want to help me, but I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

Alex looked at her and raised a brow. It was time to change approach. _Sorry, not sorry._

“So because your love life is fucked up, you need to ruin mine too?” she asked coldly.

Kara turned pale and looked like Alex slapped her.

“That was low,” she said quietly, tugging sleeves of her sweater.

“Yes, it was,” Alex agreed. “Kara, it’s just one date. We’ll have drinks, dance and have fun. You’ll help me charm the woman of my dreams and maybe you will take the cute guy home.”

“You remember what happened the last time I took a guy home,” Kara muttered under her breath and Alex felt sorry for her.

“Well, the cute guy has a home too and motels exist for a reason. And hey, if you don’t like him, then you can take him home,” she joked and punched Kara’s shoulder lightly. “I’m sure Worf will be thrilled.”

Kara chuckled and then sighed, defeated.

“It’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea. So, can I get a yes?” Alex asked hopefully.

Kara groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Stop looking like an excited pup, Alex, seriously!... Ok! I’ll go! Just don’t blame me if someone dies at the end!”

“Yes! Finally!” Alex raised her hands triumphantly and slapped Kara’s shoulder, this time forcefully.

“Ow! Stop it!” Kara moaned and massaged her throbbing shoulder.

“And Kara?” Alex asked sweetly.

“God, what now?”

“You’re standing in another puddle.”

*

“Owie.”

“Stop moving or I’ll accidentally stitch your eyelids,” Sam hummed happily.

“You’re enjoying this  way too much,” Mon-El said flatly, sitting on a stool with his head slightly turned while his so-called-best friend was taking care of his wound.

“Why should I not? Now you have two fucked up brows and you look like an idiot,” she smiled and finished her work. “Damn, I’m good,” she said examining his face. “There should be no scar after it heals… Unless another little blondie throws a purse at you,” she smiled like a cheshire cat and removed her rubber gloves.

“Thank you for your service, doctor Arias,” he rolled his eyes and gathered his stuff, ready to leave the surgery and his so-called-best friend’s jokes.

“Oh, by the way? You’re going with me to my date with Alex on Saturday,” she said to his retreating back.

Mon-El stopped and slowly turned to her with furrowed brows.

“Why you need me on a date with your FBI chick?” he asked, confused.

“Well, because you sabotaged our date tonight, you’re going out with us and her cute cousin.” Sam smiled broadly.

“First of all, I didn’t ask you to stay and take care of me-”

“Only because you were mumbling unrecognizably and no one could understand you.”

Unfortunately, that was true. He didn’t really remember what had happened after he put cuffs on the screaming blonde girl. All he remembered was a swirl of blue comets in front of his eyes, dizziness, more screaming, two neo-nazis dying from laughter and the arrival of his back up. Then was nothing, only blackness. He woke up in the hospital and remembered how to articulate correctly some time later.

He had a concussion and he was ordered to stay in the hospital for the night. Which was nice, because he definitely didn’t want to come back to the station. Being assaulted by a tipsy blonde girl? His fellows were not going to let him live. Or forget about it.

“That’s not the point. I’m not going anywhere, because I did not sabotage your date. You did.”

“True. But thanks to that I could take some pictures of you,” Sam smiled wider and Mon-El froze.

_His life really was about to end, huh?_

“And?” he tried to sound nonchalantly but failed miserably.

“And I can post them on some social media. I think some of your co-workers follow me on Instagram...” Sam took her phone from a pocket.

“I don’t care,” he lied.

“Aww, you look adorably unconscious here. And here I have a short vid of when you introduce yourself as _Monew Gun_ and claim you’re perfectly fine. And here’s our selfie,” Sam showed him her phone.

On the pic, his head was lying on the pillow, he was drooling, with the dumbest facial expression you could imagine. Sam was lying beside him, grinning mischievously.

_Yep, his life was over._

“I hate you,” he growled and turned on his heel.

“Saturday, 8PM at the Alien Bar!”

“Fuck you, Arias,” he said and walked into a trash bin.

*

And this was how he ended up on a Saturday night, squeezing through the crowd in his favorite bar, looking for his sadistic so-called best friend.

When he spotted her with two other girls in a booth, Mon-El involuntarily smiled a little.

Sam was sitting beside a short haired girl (he guessed it was Alex), laughing her ass off, with her eyes sparkling and looking absolutely astonishing and radiant.

She was a bitch sometimes, but after that whole drama with her fucking ex, she deserved happiness.

Sam noticed him and poked her partner. Alex smiled and said something to a blonde girl whose back was turned to him.

 _Ok, maybe it wasn’t going to be bad_ , he told to himself. He was going to drink, have a talk with cool people and then go home. Easy peasy.

He stopped near the table and before he could have said hi, the blonde turned to him, smiling broadly and then -

Comet blue met stormy gray. Time stopped. Eyes blinked. Smiles vanished from their faces.

Mon-El felt it as his good humor vaporized from his body in a nanosecond and his blood turned to ice.

Kara felt her cheeks got hot and rage filled her veins.

They raised their hands and pointed fingers at each other.

“YOU!” they both screamed so loudly that all people in the bar looked at them.

And then, well, shit hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked Rachela and Laurence, because they are super fun to write.  
> I know some things can be confusing right now, but it will get better... probably, lol.  
> In the next chap we are going back to the present and spend some time with Willow.  
> I'm planning to make Lena a bitch. SORRY, I mean, like the fantastic "best friend" the writers believe she is in the show. I'm just not sure how hmm, bad I'm going to make her. I feel like exaggerating some of her character traits and have fun with it. What do you think? Yay or nay?  
> And guys? Just keep in mind I have REALLY weird ideas for this fic so... feel warned ;D
> 
> And hey? I'M :) STILL :) FUCKING :) FURIOUS :) #justiceformonel
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love you all <3
> 
> ps. Don't ask about Accidentally in Love, because - I have no idea when I'm going to update? So, just keep polishing your pitch forks, I guess?


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